


The Picnic Problem

by transliterate



Series: (maybe if we) think and wish and hope and pray [3]
Category: Fringe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Picnics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:22:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transliterate/pseuds/transliterate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter hates the idea of sitting on a blanket and eating a mediocre sandwich while ants gather themselves together in preparation to feast upon any crumbs he might drop... but for Lincoln, he has to at least try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Picnic Problem

The thing about picnics is, they suck.

In Peter Bishop's esteemed opinion, that is. Participating in a picnic is on Peter's list of Top Ten Worst Ways to Eat, right after "fine dining" and "cafeteria lunches". He can afford to be a snob about picnics because he lives in Boston. No one in their right mind would want to brave the fickle weather just for a few minutes of misery to eat in. Not when you could just as easily (if not moreso) have a Lobster roll in any one of the nearby pubs, sneaking bottles of beer from the bar if you were quick enough. 

No one, that is, apart from Lincoln Lee. Peter had his suspicions about Lincoln's mental state to begin with, but this was just too much.

"You want to _what_ on Saturday?" He asked, incredulously. Then, before Lincoln could reply, he continued. "This Saturday. Our Saturday. The day after our weekly... sleepover..." they desperately needed a better moniker for their Friday night ventures. Peter was a fan of 'Making Out for Hours in the Tree House Friday' but it was slightly wordy, and besides, any time he spoke of the tree house and Friday nights, Lincoln blushed madly. Which he kind of adored, actually. "You know. In the  _tree house_."

Absoutely red face. Entirely embarrased. Why would anyone ever say no to a face like that? Wait.

"So instead of going to JJ's, where the bacon and toast and pancakes are... you want to make me suffer in the cold while feeding me brunch?" Peter could already tell this conversation wasn't working out in his favor. He'd just given Lincoln his way in and it was too late to change course. Damn, and now he was all distracted by the upturn of Lincoln's mouth when he smirked. "Sounds about right."

"But... why?" Peter whined. This is what he'd been reduced to: a pair of puppy dog eyes and a practiced whimper. Lincoln was too familiar with these tricks though (today was really not Peter's day), and barely gave the trembling lips a second glance before wrapping a friendly arm around Peter. "I guess you're just stuck with brunch, my friend." He squeezed Peter's arm affectionately, a way to let him know they were done talking about it. Peter preferred to have conversations ended a different way, but they were in the staircase at Amber High, and both boys agreed that PDA on school grounds was best limited to stolen moments in the darkest corners of the library. Library makeouts were better than under-the-bleachers-at-a-Football-game makeouts because Lincoln already had the hot librarian thing mastered... and the library had couches.

They lingered in the staircase for a few minutes longer, but Lincoln made sure they arrived to their AP Chem class in record time. Totally hot librarian. 

 +

Lincoln's Saturday pincic/brunch extravaganza seemed doomed from the start.

For one, it was cold as balls. Peter had actually woken up in the middle of the night to find the entire treehouse had been lightly dusted with snowfall. The light dusting and Lincoln's shivering body was all the encouragement he needed to move the party into the comfort of his bedroom. It was barely 4AM, and Lincoln managed to drowsily offer to sleep on the floor before curling up in Peter's double and dozing off. Peter set out the precautionary "Yes, _dad_ , I slept on the floor." sleeping bag before snuggling in next to Linc. On his double bed, two people sleeping comfortably was really out of question. Especially nowadays, as both boys were essentially just limbs. 

Most of the snow had melted at this point however, and Lincoln's disposition was every bit as sunny as the weather. "Perfect day." He remarked to Peter with a ridiculous grin, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before shoving his hands back into his pockets. "Just... perfect." Peter was apt to disagree, and his peacoat/scarf combination were a testament to the fact. Not to mention the lack of patrons in the public park. The hint of snow had probably deterred any parents from brining their kids out to the play area, and it took a very specific type of exercise junkie to brave the cold air just to get a jog in. 

Peter thought of them as masochists. He was also starting to categorize Lincoln in the same way.

"Okay. Everything is set up  _in the proper order-_ " He specified because it had taken them at least fifteen minutes to arrange the blanket in a way that Lincoln deemed appropriate. "Anything else to do before we get to the eating part of this endeavor?" Truth be told, Peter wasn't having a bad time. Take away the cold and the surroundings, and it really was a perfect day. (He would die before admitting it, but the morning had already been infintely more interesting than their usual breakfast-comic book store-arcade-tree house Saturday itinerary).  _  
_

Lincoln was sprawled out on the blanket, soaking up the warmth of the sun even while a cold breeze drifted their way. He squinted a little at Peter before propping himself up so that he was closer to him. "Mm... just one more thing." And then, Lincoln was kissing him and it was completely untoward and probably (definitely) the most efficient way for him to show his gratitude.

"Maybe picnics aren't  _so_ bad," Peter held Lincoln's gaze, barely inches away from his face as it was. "I knew you'd come around." Lincoln said with a laugh, apparently unable to help himself from planting another kiss onto Peter's lips before breaking away. The basket of unknown food items was finally being opened. Picnic brunch was just getting better and better.

Peter debated saying _if you're happy, I'm happy_ , but he knew Lincoln would call him out for it. He really did feel that way, but sentiment wasn't exactly his strong suit... much less sentiment of the spoken variety. Better to just sidle next to Linc and smush a lemon coconut muffin into his face before he spent too long thinking about it.


End file.
